Dear Wool, you are misunderstood by this modern world, with its forced hot air heating and thoughtless disposable clothing purchases. Seems as though people living today don’t even know that the reason you keep a hat on and button your coat is to protect your head and heart, they would never understand something as practical and old-fashioned as you. This world doesn’t remember that you last forever, keeping me so warm when wrapped tight. And like all things that are worth loving, a little itching or discomfort presents itself first, but fades. The feeling of not being cold is long remembered after you’ve had the shelter of a hand-made Norwegian sweater.
My 30-year-old sweater, good as new, my daughter wore it to school last week.
When I was a kid we had wool everything. This seemed to be one of the few things my mother brought along with her 18-year-old self from Norway, that she was going to pass on as tradition. Well, besides being open-minded in a way I don’t know anyone else ever being. I’ve never heard my mom remark about someone’s race, looks, income, nothing like that. She did once, on me complaining about my daughter’s dance teacher lacking charm, say “Ingrid, she is a Burlington County woman.” I laughed so hard I almost fell out of my chair.
Dope wool sneakers
My Grandmother's Socks and Mittens
I still have all the sweaters I was knit as a kid, my daughters wear them now. My grandmother knits daily, she has hundreds of socks and mittens. She sells them in one of my favorite shops, in my mom’s hometown that is an hour outside of Oslo, it’s called Handverkstua and they sell crafts made by the town’s seniors. I like everything about that store, beautiful hand-carved framed mirrors, doll clothes, and hand-tooled leather belts with embossed motorcycles on them, even though I’m sure the items sold there would be the equivalent to craft afghan blankets here. I once bought a knit stuffed black cat that my grandmother’s friend, Aslaug made and on hearing of the purchase, Aslaug was beside herself at the transatlantic honor bestowed her knit cat. This cat was going to America. I imagined arriving at Newark Int’l Airport with a sea of Etsy chicks before me, half of them midwestern, warm and chubby, the other half Park Slope moms screaming with Beatlemania for Aslaug’s cat.
Rest in Peace Aslaug
© Mad Question Asking – 2012 All Rights Reserved
Etsy chicks screaming like Beatlemania for the wool cat! Oh, Ingrid, you rock.
Kelly, one of the things I love about MQA is that you are so damn complimentary, your enthusiasm is so sweet. And in the weeks since MQA began it’s like our very own comment gallery.